


Arris

by seekingjets



Series: Bad Business [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Brief Fantasy scenes, Dreams, Earth/Cybertron, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Graphic Violence, not beta read cause I am still lazy and insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 11:50:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingjets/pseuds/seekingjets
Summary: Megatron has a strange dream, and he's certain Starscream is to blame.---aka: the lyrics to Sandman go here.





	Arris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Virtualnemesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtualnemesis/gifts).



> This fic is for Nemesis, who loves all things High Fantasy and Megatron in worship - as well as apparently spoiling me with their artistic works.
> 
> Happy Birthday and thank you for your friendship. ❤

⚔

It’s Starscream's fault, usually is. 

The red-eyed brat, not satisfied with the claim he holds over Megatron in the waking realm, had to slither into his dreams. Twist and reconfigure his usual blank and uneventful slumber into something where the image of him would feel welcome. Incapable of leaving Megatron with a scrap of his own autonomy. No. To have Starscream is to belong to Starscream, nothing less - and his sapphire trimmed lover seemed to know it.

The dream itself was hardly a surprise.

The daytime hours before such a dream were spent on the long drive to the airfield. The open plains of worthless horizon framing his car, fresh air and sunshine disagreeing with his skin hardened by coal smoke cities and fluorescent lights. The sight of copper pipes and cement floors as natural to Megatron as any blade of grass or distant mountain silhouette. He eventually had to borrow Soundwave’s colored glasses as the intrusive sun humiliated the SUV’s attempt at tinted windows. Piercing through the dark veil of glass to worm itself into an ache behind Megatron’s sensitive eyes. The pupils left raw after many years of Shockwave’s _fine tuning_ while the fresh air only made him feel heavy and tired. Leaning on his palm while Soundwave drove on in silence. Comfortable as they have been for many, many years.

At the first sound of engines cutting the sky Megatron knew he’d dozed off. Righting himself in the passenger seat as the scene of the renovated and updated base had surrounded them without his knowledge. Former military signs replaced with his company’s logo and extensive warnings for trespassers. Gold and black patterned dogs barking at their approach, men in dark uniform and a matte purple design across their hearts wrestling with the canines’ pulling ruthless and on guard. 

The entry station recognized Soundwave and went rigid at Megatron’s presence. A polite greeting and they were on their way across the campus with no further delay. Scattered buildings of metal frame, the open walkways spotted in private guard and rushing intellectuals talking rapidly among themselves. Tarp covered crates and towering electrical grids all weaving and worming into these intimidating structures. Silver solar panels heavy across rooftops and the sound of jet-engines made the air vibrate as they drew closer to the runway. 

It was an unusually warm fall day - heat sunk into the tops of his polished shoes as they stepped out of the vehicle. Approaching the tented command center, an awning of Seeker-red. The bloodied color a favorite of his clever little lover and found the only mark of Starscream’s family had snuck its way in where it could. Like the past trying to slip out in oozing color where Megatron and his command had painted over many times before. 

Thundercracker stood out among the gathered control stations, moving and tracking their curtained screens - in communication with specks on the horizon twisting in daring and delicate motion high in the open blue sky. The eldest of the Seeker trio in a rarely seen uniform, weapon at his hip and arms crossed over the broad chest. Checking a radio in his ear and giving command of the facility’s entire security - outranking all here wearing a badge and the only one of the Seekers with any real combat experience. 

Thundercracker noticed their arrival, giving a short salute as the soldier in him crept out, motioning for Megatron and Soundwave to stand near. Offering headpieces to make it easier to communicate and cut out the noise of three jets still on the tarmac, their engines flaring and pouring an almost intolerable amount of heat across the base. 

“He’ll be down soon.” Was all the man had to say, pointing to the sky where bladed shapes flew. Twisting and curling across open blue uninhibited by gravity or logic. One in particular dissecting the world above with exceptional ease and intricate design, the almost impossible turns and spiraling falls like a serpent through fine grain - unstoppable motion conquering the sky as a kingdom to manipulate. 

Casually remaking the blue into nothing more than an endless terrain for his own use, taking Megatron’s awe right along with it. 

Starscream was raised by the sound of jet engines and the domination of the sky. Told Megatron as much when his childhood was brought up. The glittering excitement in his dark framed eyes retelling his first time in the air, his chest swelling in the memory. A little prince shown his empire at the comfort of a multi-million dollar war craft - and the impact it left on Megatron’s serpentine seeker as oxygen and burning fuel never seemed to leave his veins.

When Starscream lands his newest project, heat and noise spilling across the runway like a sleek dragon carving through and spitting flame, it’s an event. Megatron stands his ground but Soundwave turns at the noise even with the insulation of headgear and Thundercracker putting himself between Soundwave and the worst of it. A physical shield in more ways than one, the man so used to life at the sidelines of war machines and the manic minds which craft them. But Megatron stands tall and still while the rush of air tossed hair and clipped papers of the tented command post about. The red shape, glossy panels and pale wings, setting down with little fuss. An ace pilot at the helm while those observing either flitter around readings and display screens, or stare in awe as the new pride of their aerial line comes to a rolling stop. Vents a hissing exhale over the base and Megatron watching carefully the silhouettes inside the amber glass of the canopy as it rises.

Megatron questions if Starscream has experienced the world going silent to frame an image? If the brat has ever had lungs rung empty by motion and shape - the lean grace of a man rising from a cockpit as crew and engineers rush the shadow beneath wings like scrambling ants.

He wonders if Starscream has ever been struck silent at a man plucking a helmet from his skull just to have a glare of sunlight streak across dark skin and red eyes, a warm breeze cutting through and tangling hair beginning to curl at the crown from sweat and exhilaration.

Megatron has. 

As Starscream grins with perfected white teeth, chest heaving with energy as he surveys his victory, his name stitched and branded across the flight-suit just below the symbol over his heart. Megatron’s symbol - more than a cheap logo - adorning Starscream’s body as the spoiled Prince of Vos climbs from the jet. Unbothered by the commotion as he parts the workers tending to the machinery, standing beneath a wing and turning with the stubborn nudge of the breeze until that pale shape molds across his shoulders. Leaving him soft with elation as Starscream merges with his own creation in illusion of a glaring sun. Jet wide and glimmering in the bright sunshine, blinding almost as it seems to sprout from Starscream’s back like his own wings tearing from his spine.

Megatron questions if Starscream will ever know how obscenely cruel he is, to be so beautiful and only pretend to understand it. 

The man notices him across the distance and those red eyes look orange in the light, a blazing pyre in the noise and motion as the world catches back up to Starscream’s existence. Behind his brat Skywarp appears from the canopy, hoping down with a different sort of energy, slapping his _brother_ on the shoulder before rushing past. Sparing a second to glance Megatron’s way and the smile was knowing, even as Starscream pushed him back and moved with noticeable haste across the distance. Ignoring his engineers and techs as he did, shoving his helmet painted with gold and red like a twisted crown (His Father’s symbol, the mark of Starscream’s lineage) into their waiting hands and moving through them like a blade. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

“Always.” 

“You look stupid.” His seeker grinned, smile unchecked by his usual need for theatrics. Too swollen by his time in the sky, conquering and clever.

“Unlike you I’m not used to this noise.” Megatron answers, but still removed the headgear out of the smallest embarrassment, wincing at the sun which seemed to follow Starscream like a cloak. The banner of his empire coloring his lover bronze and gold. 

“You poor old man.” Starscream chuckled, almost too soft to be heard over quieting engines and yelling controllers herding the jets and the research team about. All this forgotten past Starscream’s sharp smile and the gloved hands rising to box the edges of Megatron’s brow. Having to stand on tiptoe (now without the added height of his usual raised footwear) of heavy boots to reach him. “There, I’ll protect you.” Teases, but his hands cast shadow across Megatron’s eyes and shield him from the sunlight, allowing him to relax the stiff squint and fully take in Starscream’s appearance.

The sweat and matted hairline, chapped lip and grease scuff across a cheek. The smell of sour engine fuel and hot tar competing with Starscream’s sweetness, the feel of his body shivering when Megatron gently cradles his wrists and holds him secure in his reach.

Megatron has loved twice before.

One was taken from him. One he let leave…  
  
Neither felt like this. 

But Megatron holds a racing pulse beneath the pads of his thumbs - and knows not Primus or Mortilus could rip Starscream from his grasp.

“Show me what you’ve accomplished.” He requests, as is the reason for his visit. Mourning the quick loss of Starscream’s touch as the man retreats. Smile wicked, ever lingering. 

“I think you’ll like it.” 

They spend the remainder of the day walking the base, checking in on assembly buildings and Starscream trying to _wow_ Megatron into a higher budget and time allowance by the presentation. It’s the reason Megatron brought Soundwave to this check-in, their firm “no” keeping Megatron out of trouble with Starscream rather than deny his seeker outright. Hardly a coward’s move, hiding behind his personal assistant. Starscream did better when it wasn’t Megatron denying his wants and even Thundercracker and Skywarp looked relieved when their third tensed, but did not tantrum. 

There was a moment as the sun dropped and the wear of Starscream’s tour guide voice fell away, allowing Ramjet to take over as Soundwave made notes. Observed. Memorized. Megatron feeling the weight of the man at his side, Starscream’s skin tacky in dried sweat and tired eyes shifting beneath black lashes. Megatron resting a hand on the other’s shoulder, rubbing gentle circles where none would see against his neck.

“We should leave, it’s a long drive back.” 

“No. My team isn’t due to go until tomorrow.” Starscream yawned, dismissing Megatron’s suggestion and yet leaning into his touch. Always so ready to make things difficult for Megatron, ready to undermine where he can. 

“Why not Screamer?” Skywarp pipes up, grinning from ear to ear as he leans over Thundercracker’s shoulder. Flightsuit unzipped to the belt and his collar spotted in intimate bruising. “TC and I can wrap up no problem, you should go.” 

Starscream wears a face knowing _exactly_ what his “brothers” are intending - a curious wonder on Megatron’s part of how many times his jets have been defiled by rambunctious seekers. Choosing to ignore the obvious for now as their pressure seemed enough for Starscream to wear his best imitation of annoyed and give in.

“Fine.” He glares, but his knuckles brush Megatron’s hip. “But I’m not driving.” 

He in fact does not drive.

Nor does Starscream remain awake for the drive. 

Soundwave sits passenger, focused on their phone until the man in the back seat stops shuffling around. Breath evening into a quiet snore before Soundwave takes their own coat, turning to drop it over the sleeping form curled across the seats. Wordless. Always the caretaker. They even shoot a look at Megatron, something to confirm they will not take comment on their action as Megatron only feels victorious at the exchange. Important for his inner circle to find peace with one another, no tolerance for disruption. One day Starscream would tame himself for the greater good and he could have the more he demanded. For now, Megatron was happy feeding him distraction and work and his attention.

They arrive at Starscream’s home well after nightfall, Soundwave taking the car as Megatron wakes the sleeping man. Snapped at and then suffering the pout when Starscream demands to be carried. Huffing and puffing when Megatron simply walks away and tells him to sleep in the car. Amused when the younger man catches up in the elevator and crosses arms - ignoring Megatron at the same time as trying to make a scene for his attention.

Megatron silently follows the frowning man back to his apartment door, into the home of hard lines and cold where he’s been given space for few things. Questioning how long it will take for Starscream to realize there’s now food in his fridge or that it’s not delivery bringing him breakfast. Small actions gone ignored as Starscream’s world is closed off to anything past himself - slowly unpeeling to give inches to Megatron. But he’s a patient man and can wait, can be still or push, it’s all a matter of time.

“I’m taking a shower.” 

“Good idea.” Megatron follows him to the bedroom then the bathroom, unmoving as the man shrieks and tries to push him out. Claiming _gross_ and _absolutely not_ long enough to believe he’s put up a believable resistance. Letting out the prettiest sound when Megatron hoists him onto the brushed steel of the counter-top which stretched across the over-sized bathroom. Peeling them from clothes with a hurried pace as the shower steamed and filled the room with heat just as endless as the machines spewing their fire over the runway. Kissing the snarling brat back into the mirror while dark legs struggled to cage his waist. Starscream’s body still hot and vibrating with jet engines from the day cutting through the open skies and soaking up the sun. 

By the time they stumble into the shower Megatron’s strength is the only thing keeping Starscream standing. Hard hand pawing between his shaking thighs, clawed grip pinching into the flesh of Megatron’s wrists as he holds on. The sounds strained and wonderful swallowed against Megatron’s lips when he kisses demanding and rough. Stiff where he rut against the cleft of Starscream’s wet and soapy backside, pinning him against the tiled corner and working him open with slow motion and teeth braced against a shuddering throat. 

It was feral and messy until it wasn’t. The shower spray clattering against his face and shoulders as he held Starscream with a bruising grip sinking into him. Feeling every muscle tense as hands sought purchase against a slippery wall. Useless where he was held, somehow both taut and boneless as Starscream's brow met the tile and he whined for more. Already the rough welts of Megatron’s teeth and Starscream’s nails were bright even under the fog of heat and Starscream’s breathy moans. Each patient thrust slower than the last until his wicked seeker was coming slow and shivering as he cursed. Thighs quaking where no strength was left. Pretty face furious as he glowered over a soapy shoulder and seemed to trick himself into disappointment while the evidence otherwise washed obscene down his legs. The strangled noise as Megatron retrieves his own body from the depths of Starscream’s otherwise soft form.

“I have all night.” Megatron promised, trialing lips against the curve of Starscream’s ear, a delicate motion he knows the man pretends to hate. Defines himself by a false preference of harsh and rough where Megatron has seen the other unfold and beg when he’s gentle. Beautiful thing fighting him at every turn.

“You’ll be asleep before I’m satisfied.” Starscream puffs and shudders when Megatron kisses him again. Throat collared by his hand as he pressed the man back into the soiled tile wall and covered him from the hush of the shower-head, water pouring down his shoulders and chest. Starscream’s claws tracing across old scars both streaks and sunbursts before straddling a broad thigh and grinning against Megatron’s kiss as he rocks against the still hardened length of him.

“We’ll see.” 

Starscream lost that bet.

Half asleep and spent some time later as his flexible body went limp and lax around Megatron’s torso. The bed beneath still damp from their rushed stumble onto the red sheets. Starscream's mouth the same raw color from a relentless kiss and his own reckless stretch around Megatron’s girth. Black hair curled and tangled from Megatron’s hand combing and grasping tight onto the bobbing skull, Cursing and praising the brat before having enough and needing to pin him down into the color he loves so much until he _cried_ Megatron’s name.

And when he was spent, energy depleted by the sun, the sky and Megatron, he muttered in his content state. Lowered to bed sheets and hissing in distaste for Megatron’s arms wrapped around him, but digging fingers and tangling legs tight so he was locked around him still. Burying his nose against Megatron’s pulse so in turn he was smothered by the tangled black hair and nuzzling creature.

He kisses Starscream’s brow and chuckles at what sounds like a complaint as his brat dozes, both a mess and blankets far from casual reach. Megatron knowing he’ll be woken with a shivering tantrum tomorrow but agreeing it was worth the later trouble if for now he could just stroke the edges of Starscream’s hairline. Hold him close (and silent) as he counts the ease in which Starscream’s breath falls to an even pace - so unlike before when Starscream would pretend to be asleep for hours if they shared a bed. Still not ready for that level of intimacy even if Megatron had just been _inside_ him. My how things have changed, and how drastic those changes were.

⚔

He did not expect Starscream to invade his dreams so effortlessly as he had carved out a place for himself in Megatron’s waking life. Yet here they were...

There is the cry of the crowd and the storming of feet on floors. Rattling the ancient wood which held the great structure together, sending even the dust beneath his feet to quake. The rhythmic pounding of the audience floods his pulse, his blood. Almost deafening him to the world beyond the streams of veins and the shaking inside his chest as lungs expand to take in the bitter air, salted by the near sea and the blood spilled across his brow. 

It does not, however, distract from his purpose. Still aware when his combatant swings the blade wide, nearly catching Megatron’s exposed side where the leather does not reach. The cry of fury at the miss and charging forward with weapon in strict hold, Megatron parrying with the flat of his broad blade and the spark ignites to the screams of the crowd. The pounding of his heart louder as he rolls forward, quick for his size, up on his feet before his enemy can recover. Blood splashes his face like hot rain as he drives his weapon swift and upward across the exposed thighs. The cry is louder, but the cheers are endless, washing any sense of pain from Megatron’s ears as his combatant spins wild and off kilter. The look of fear never reaching too far past the drive of violence and their war song, bottled and poured across this field for the crowd.

They dive for one another, Megatron faster. Dodging the slash of the pike and taking the dull ache as it cracks over the shoulder armor. His arm outstretched and grasping the collared throat of his enemy, both tumbling downwards at the power of his landing. Dust kicks up around them, the scramble of desperate men and copper soaked tongues as he can imagine what it looks like beyond. A cloud and screams and a flash of blades before the sickening crack and scatter of red across the coliseum dirt when his challenger surrenders - beaten and unmoving save for the gasping chest pierced by Megatron’s weapon.

Megatron stands, the winner. Raises his bloodied sword above his head...and there is no sound louder than the cries of victory from those who did not fight the battle.

Around the colosseum of harsh shapes and towers of silver, the vibration of motion as endless viewers stand - screaming and cheering for his murderous victory. Losing their claim to sanity over the drip of crimson down the polished blade. He can't possibly see every face, but they all look the same. Gaunt and starved, pretty things dressed in their finest suits of silk and gold to impress no one but themselves. These creatures swarming for bloodshed and only satisfied by the bodies scattering the field whose only crime was to try and survive in a pit against Megatron.

His name chanted and the building, massive and daring to challenge the sky for territory, quakes his title as the highest balcony unfolds banners down the white and carved stone. Impressive structure of twisting silver part with unseen forces to reveal what he is fighting for - who shares the collar around his neck and the heart pounding in his chest as he stands beside his struggling foe. Staring up into the sun crowning the dark awning to protect this creature from the glare, though Megatron knows the sun should instead fear for her safety instead.

An entity emerges and the crowd goes still.

Dressed in sheer reds and intricate plates of silver and sapphire down his waist he approaches the edge of his platform. The sun pouring down bare shoulders and long arms, heavy armored claws looking delicate down hands braced at his hips. The comfort in which this creature is bare and exposed is breathtaking - but nothing more so than the face of pure pleasure. The crooked smile, wicked and yet sublime. Twisting the features of an angel into a devil’s song as his patron stands framed in his own decadence, the wind tousling the endless black curls gentle across his face. Fine mouth painted red where dark skin is marked in complicated patterns of ancient language, catching the sun and causing the entity to shine bright enough to challenge the stars.

“Impressive, aren’t you?’ He speaks level but the sound echoes through Megatron’s skin as if whispered against his sternum, almost bowing at the sheer delight of it. The familiar warm purr, and bladed edges of his patron’s voice. 

“Always.” 

The crown this creature wears casts a violent shadow across the colosseum floor, beginning to stretch across the blackened dust and soil, finding the edges of Megatron’s own and beginning to devour it. Piece by piece, and he feels it, being consumed by this thing with the angel’s smile and the whole of this world watching him - as Starscream’s vision does not leave Megatron’s form.

There is a sound like hurricanes brewing from the south, violent and consuming as twin wings rise from Starscream’s back. Seraphic and sleek. Pale feathers tinted red at the edges as if dragged across the blood soaked battlefield - bestowing a last touch of beauty over the dead before their souls were forsaken to Mortilus. Standing at the ledge of his viewing box as the world and sun and sky kneel to his smallest smile. Awestruck and obsessed as he is deserving.

“My champion.” Starscream muses and raises wings to shadow Megatron’s brow, sparing him from the sun’s jealousy. Slim wrist outstretched as his hand motions a command.

And Megatron nods before burying his sword into his combatant’s heart. A sacrifice for an angel.

Megatron does not bow. Will not bow to any King or Angel in these wicked lands. Will not bow even to Starscream, who knows this, but lets pale teeth peek from dark lips as the dream holds no further logic. Twisting time and moments into something unfathomable and he is no longer in the colosseum. 

Now he sinks into the heat of a warm bath as armor is left abandoned by the brass door. Gasping as the wounds of his fights are flooded with perfumed and steamed waters. The massive pool lined in pale blue stones which glow possessed of unknown magic and held by the whim of their master. Starscream still adorned in his crown and jewelry, freed of the bothersome silks and sheer red cloth, waiting for him across the distance. Megatron’s shape parting the water and rippling outwards towards this angelic thing with sharp teeth and waiting claws, eager to join him across the distance. Falling into his grasp with a heavy grunt and at the first touch of gold freckled skin he is starved. 

This prince parts his legs without hesitation, clutching with metal claws to Megatron’s shoulders as he has little patience to wait. Easing himself into this beautiful thing, the uncurled gasp and tense frame surrounding him as only _he_ can satisfy this deity. Only he can make it more than a lovely adornment on a petty throne. 

Starscream cries his name, kisses his bruises cheeks and water is streaked across the wings poised helpless and raised above them. His body arched and craving as Starscream is treated as something crude and to be taken by a mere gladiator. Pinned against sloshing edges while Megatron dares to mark the skin beneath his teeth and claim him deep and warm where no others would see. His every sound swallowed with more devotion than this creature will ever know by his hoards of priests and fans.

“My champion.” He moans as Megatron takes what is his, worship in the motion of his body stripping Starscream of his elegance. Wanting him gasping and scrambling as any mortal would, reforming him into something meant only for Megatron's hands. Vision blurred by the other's silver tears as he kisses quiet and tender across the silver streaked jaw - the dream taking him once more.

They are standing at the edges of a battlefield. 

All are dead.

All are one in this death and only distant vultures survived the carnage. 

Cities burn. Thrones fall and a new iron suit has been built around Megatron’s body. 

He doesn’t wear a crown, but instead he carries a badge sealed into the metal by a scalding brand - the same painted across Starscream’s flesh as his beloved raises now all-red wings in wonder at the destruction they have caused. 

Starscream also no longer wears a crown, but unlike Megatron, he misses the luxury. Pouts when any fine things are taken from him, but replies in eager lust and excitement when splendor is replaced with cruel weapons and the joy of torment. Picking off foes and those who might try and deter their path, his devilish lover presenting corpses like a dowry. Both blushing and hopeful with thin red eyes awaiting approval. 

But here on this battlefield his angel and he are smiling. Shackles spilling off their hearts and a new horizon to explore, to rebuild into something they choose. Anything they wish at their shadows spread across this wretched terrain of red banners and orange brands - of old hierarchies and cruelties which kept one a pretty ornament, and the other a General in chains. Enslaved to his blood which he now feels drying tacky and sharp against his brow and beneath the armor. Victorious as his battered and bruised body dares to rest for the moment in the company of his other half.

“Megatron?” Starscream questions, gentle for a creature who brought fire and mayhem upon their enemies, commanding his winged brothers like a swarm pulling the sky from her frame and carving a new world for their intention. Under Megatron’s name.

In this dream, this future, Starscream has changed greatly from the pampered prince atop his tower throne. Now scarred sweetly and armored in dark colors, his twin swords sheathed at sharp hips - hair cut and pleated in the same manner as Megatron’s as they stand side by side at the precipice of their future won. 

Megatron bows to kiss where before a delicate crown rested atop his lover's brow, once trapping him as the prettiest prisoner.

One Megatron found, one Megatron freed. 

“My angel.” He whispers, reverent as a vow while the dead begin humming a coliseum chant from their graves.

⚔

Starscream watches Megatron dream.

It’s a funny thing, how cozy the other has gotten in his presence. How he believes Starscream has fallen asleep before him and lets himself remain unguarded now. Unguarded enough at least.

He questions if Megatron realizes Starscream isn’t as stupid as he pretends, if he thinks Starscream hasn’t noticed the men standing at far away buildings every night since the gilded party? If he thinks Starscream is blind to the sudden increase of guard and false privacy between them now that he’s let Megatron slip inside this little fracture made beneath his behemoth fists pounding away sloppily since they first met. 

It makes Starscream smile, giddy in fact as he props himself on elbows watching the noble brow wrinkle with some unknown reverie. Wondering what his employer is dreaming of? If it’s a good dream or another nightmare that Starscream wont comment on in the morning. There aren’t a lot, but he’s woken to Megatron cursing in accented tone against unseen rivals enough times to see past this perfected facade of complete control - and knows better than to use vulnerability as something to tease. Megatron is not vulnerable often and Starscream swallows down a possessive knot in his throat thinking anyone else might have ever seen him in such a way. 

His lip curls in a rather unattractive manner thinking too hard about it, and he feels both foolish and thankful Megatron’s not awake to see him _mooning_ over the possibility of past lovers. Or able to openly stare and wonder where these scars came from. 

Long jagged things marring Megatron’s heavy muscles. The starburst shapes like burned flesh or bullet holes scattered across the warm planes of his belly. Hidden in the shadows along grooves of natural motion or worn down by time, only seen in the palest corners of Megatron’s body. He frowns thinking of it, of where Megatron was so hurt - why his knuckles are bone white with scar tissue compared to the rest of his skin. Why he watches strangers with the same intensity of his private guard, as if he’s not the CEO but a lowly guard ready to brawl and battle - a feral dog on edge.

The broad chest inhales, loud noisy man. Always interrupting Starscream’s thoughts and making it about _him_. Rude. Absolutely intolerable. 

Starscream rests his chin to the side of Megatron’s head, watching the eyes move beneath clenched lids. Grinning stupid and young as he fails to ignore the blossoming heat in his chest. How long it’s been since watching another just sleep made him happy. Primus help him, he might just be domesticated after-all! His mother will surely roll in her grave. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? A pretty house husband, kept spoiled and sated. Kissing Megatron’s cheek as he toils off to work and leaving Starscream to relax in whatever riches he can squeeze from the man. He’s sure at this point it wouldn’t take much work...

The look on his face when Starscream stepped from the fighter jet - how his unexpected arrival was enough to have Starscream tripping over himself to run to him. Be the one he was addressing and let the rest of the world burn with their jealousy. Not that Starscream really knew what to do with all the power Megatron seemed ready to hand over without worry. Like he _trusted_ him with his heart.

Starscream is terrified that Megatron loves him. 

And more terrified of what will happen the moment Megatron realizes Starscream probably loves him too.

He reaches across to brush fallen locks of dark gray and sharp white from the man’s brow. Looking fondly to Megatron’s face and --

“Ah!” Yelps when those eyes are open, watching him. Reaching for a pillow to smack Megatron in the face only to have a hard grip snatch his wrist. Stop him at the last second and, startled, he’s no match for that strength. Snared and twisted until that massive body is dragging him on top, locking arms behind his back and trapping him there. The strange sensation of fingers trailing across his spine as if _searching_ for something there. “Let go of me!” 

“Hn.” 

“Don’t grunt at me you barbarian!” Snarls, tempted to bite Megatron’s lip which is in range as he feels the body shift, turning the world upside down as he’s so easily manipulated and pinned beneath that weight. Air knocked from his lungs for a moment before the other adjusts. No longer crushing him, but not giving him room to slither out either. “Are you even awake?!” 

There’s a softness to Megatron’s features which he’s not certain he’s familiar with. A heavy sigh as the man brushes a bearded jaw across Starscream’s collar and his body responds with a low shudder. Betraying his outrage with interest - always ready to enjoy the coarse sensation across his bare skin (between his legs especially). 

He wants to slap him, but also dig nails into his stupid smug face and drag him closer. Swallow him whole. Consume him in revenge for every waking moment Starscream now spends wondering if Megatron is his.

“What?” He sneers, the silence annoying - being watched without being prepared to give a show something he despises. Waiting for any reason Megatron was seemingly content not speaking! “Well?” 

“Nothing at all, just a dream.” Megatron grins soft at the edges, moving to rest his weight back down on Starscream’s lean torso leaving him wiggling trying to fight back.

The touch of lips against his cheek jarring as Megatron purrs warm into his heart: “Settle down, _Angel._ ”

  



End file.
